


Not One Word

by mldrgrl



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:35:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22887160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mldrgrl/pseuds/mldrgrl
Summary: Some cases are harder than others and sometimes they both just need to fall apart.
Relationships: Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Comments: 10
Kudos: 144





	Not One Word

They can’t both break down, or else, how would they solve this case? When things are hard, like really really tough to deal with, somehow they always intuitively know which one of them is going to fall apart and which one of them needs to be strong. It’s one of the things that makes them good partners. But, her strength is running out on this one and she doesn’t know how much longer she can last. They just can’t both break down.

She stands in the doorway to their connecting hotel rooms and watches him. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, shirt unbuttoned, wrapping his necktie around his hand, letting it fall loose and unravel, and then doing it all over again. His head is down, his shoulders are slumped, and the only reason she can see him at all is because the lamp is on in her room. He hasn’t even bothered to turn his lights on, or his TV.

It hurts to see him like this. She knows what he must be feeling, interviewing the parents of little girls that vanished in the night; little girls with scared and stoic older brothers who were supposed to look out for their little sisters. The similarities are eerie, but for her, every time she closes her eyes, the little blonde-haired, blue-eyed missing girls bear too much of a resemblance to her own absent child. There’s so little evidence to go on and too much coincidence and she really doesn’t know if they should be looking for aliens or flannel hearts.

She crosses the room and sits beside him on the bed. His shoes are still on and mud clings to the toes. She tsks slightly and leans down to pull the laces free. The bottom of his slacks are damp and cold against her fingers as she pats the back of his ankle to get him to lift his foot free. It’s rained almost non-stop the whole four days they’ve been in Seattle. The first thing she did was kick her wet shoes off and hang her clammy socks on the rack in the bathroom. Her blouse is stuck to her back in spots where rain managed to soak through her blazer. She’s actually forgotten if she hung that up to dry or left it on the floor.

After she gets his shoes off, she sits back up, rests her arm on his bent back, following the line of his spine to his neck where her thumb brushes his nape. They sit silently as time passes and the rain falls steadily outside. She wants to comfort him, to tell him that they’ll find whoever did this, that he should rest, but it’s hard to find the stamina for it. Besides, it feels like a lie. She feels as helpless and hopeless and he does. The fear she’s been feeling these last few days escalates into something more like dread and her breath catches suddenly.

Overwhelmed, and almost instinctively, she turns towards him, wraps her arm around his neck and holds tight. It’s awkward, sitting side by side such as they are, but he’s startled into action and turns towards her as well, slides his arm around her waist. She can feel his necktie, wrapped around his hand, pressing into her hip. She hides her face in his hair and he hides his in the crook of her shoulder.

It’s okay, she thinks. It’s okay to need this. And she does need this. Badly. She needs to expel the grief and fear that’s taken hold of her. She needs something to hold on to and something to keep her tethered to the ground. No, not just something, someone. And not just someone, she needs him. They need each other and it’s okay to need.

Her lips brush the shell of his ear, accidentally, but he squeezes her tighter. She does it again, this time on purpose, and in turn he nuzzles her neck with his nose. Suddenly, she can feel her heartbeat in every part of her body, from her chest, to the back of her knees, to her fingertips. She presses her lips together to whisper his name, but gets no further than the hum of the first syllable in the back of her throat.

There is more than need here now. She wants this as much as she needs it. And it’s been so long since she’s been overcome with desire she’s almost forgotten how good it feels to want something so desperately. 

She pushes out of his hold only enough to swing her knee over his leg and straddle his lap. He blinks at her, stunned, clutches at her hips like he’s afraid she might fall. He’d never let her fall, she’s well aware of that. She pulls her blouse up from his grip and whips it over her head. Her skin is stunningly alabaster coupled with the dark satin of her bra and slacks. He stares at her chest and she looks down as well, reaches for one of his hands, and lifts it to her breast. She closes her eyes and sighs as he pets her softly with the tips of his fingers. Blindly, she reaches back to unhook her bra and when it slides off her shoulders, he draws a line down her sternum with his index finger.

He looks up at her and she almost expects him to ask for permission to touch her, but his gaze is serene, like he knows she belongs to him. She does belong to him, just as much as he belongs to her. They belong to each other and, please, her eyes say. Please.

One open-mouthed kiss against her neck is followed by one along her clavicle, the top of her shoulder, the side of her arm, and finally, the swell of her breast. The stubble on his chin rasps against the sensitive peak of her nipple and she gasps and arches her back. His hands slide back to grip her ass and she closes her thighs even tighter against his hips.

As good as it is, it isn’t enough. She wants his skin on her skin. She puts her hands inside his open dress shirt, scratches at the t-shirt underneath. He keeps his mouth to her chest, panting hotly against the valley of her breasts as he helps her pull and finagle his dress shirt off. The two seconds it takes to shed his undershirt is too long and she reaches for him even before he’s pulled his head free.

Instead of returning to his place, he flips her down to the bed and hovers over her. She pulls him down with her and he goes willingly, exploring this new territory presented to him with his mouth. She writhes and groans beneath him, thinking there must be some rational explanation for how it’s possible for it to feel like he’s everywhere at once, but also not caring what the answer is. He paints the curve of the underside of her breast with his tongue and she feels it in the bottoms of her feet. He nips at the skin just below her navel and her head tingles.

He keeps moving down and away from her and she whimpers in protest, but he has his big, warm hands on her ribs and his nose rubs across the waistband of her slacks and suddenly he’s got the button between his teeth, giving it a tug. She whimpers again, this time in anticipation as she fumbles for the zipper on her pants. He doesn’t even wait for her to lift her hips for him. All it takes is a gentle pull and a swift tug after that and she’s bare.

He kneels down in front of her and pulls her closer. She’s never been one to look at a lover in moments like this, always closed her eyes when things become too intimate to bear, but she can’t take her eyes off of him as he leans in. He breathes deep, like he’s standing outside a bakery when the first pies and cakes of the day are being laid out. She flushes red and bites her lip. The desire that’s been building inside seeps forth and makes her thighs tremble.

The first touch of his tongue makes her muscles clench. It’s too good, too much, too soon. He massages the tops of her thighs, urging her to relax and let him learn how to please her, so she surrenders to him and to the aching need inside. He reaches up to knead at her breasts and she marvels at how it seems as though they were molded for his hands. She rolls her hips unconsciously and the moan he lets out in response vibrates up through her body. It feels like sweet torture so she does it again, and again, again. 

After he’s had her squirming and gasping and clawing the bedclothes, she grows limp and almost dizzy with pleasure. He rubs his glistening face against her belly for a few moments and then rests his head on the pillow of her thigh. She runs her fingers through his hair and he draws circles around her navel with his middle finger.

The break to catch their breath is short. She tugs his hair and he gets up off his knees. She sits up and unbuckles his belt. Even though she’s careful, she brushes against the hard length of him when she draws his zipper down and he bucks his hips away with a sharp intake of breath. She looks up at him and caresses the sides of his hips. He gently pushes her hands away and she backs up the bed in understanding. She can taste him later, but now they need to have their fill of each other.

She leans back on her elbows and opens her legs to invite him in as he walks across the bed on his knees towards her. When he can wrap an arm around her, she lays back and takes him with her. He hovers above her, looking down at her with such reverence that it takes her breath away. She wraps one leg around him and pulls on his hip. Now, she thinks. I need you right now. He keeps his eyes on her as he enters her and once he’s there, it’s like it’s where he’s always belonged. Their limbs lock around each other and they take the next few moments just to savor what they’ve done.

They move together; thrusting, rocking, clenching, pulling. His groans are muffled by her shoulder, her cries are quiet by nature, loud enough for his ears only. Her body trembles and convulses against his for a second time just as he grows stiff and bruises her hip with the rough pull of his hand. It stings, but it also feels good, like she’s alive for the first time in a long time.

Suddenly, Mulder shudders against her and she can feel him crying. He releases a gut-wrenching sob and then her own heart cracks open and the lid of Pandora’s box of emotions she’s kept locked tight lifts off and everything spills out at once; joy, pain, longing, hurt, hope, love. She sobs with him, letting all of it go and they stay locked together through it.

She’s drained when it subsides, but also feels like a weight has been lifted. They untangle themselves slowly, but not fully, just loosen the knot of limbs enough to look at one another. She touches his face, wipes the tears away from under his eyes, and brings her thumb to his lips, suddenly realizing that they never even kissed. He seems to come to the same realization and moves her hand away, holds it close against his chest as he leans in and presses his mouth to hers. They pull apart and twine their fingers as they rest their foreheads together. Her eyes close and just before she falls asleep, she realizes that it’s no longer raining.

The End


End file.
